The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-11-16
Selected Storp.
Miss Becky's Home.

fact, but there was nothing else for her
to do, it seemed. Who would think of
offering any other home to a poor, al
most helpless old woman who had out
lived her usefulness? Having passed
her days in other peoples houses, so to
speak, she might not mind it as much,
perhaps, as more fortunate being.
" Yes" she said, there's vacancy
in the Old Ladies' Home and the hun
dred dollars that Parson Amory left me
will pay my way in, but it wouldn't last
long if | began to spend it, you know,
and | shall have warm bed and my
regular meals without worrying about
where the next ones coming from. Pm
most tired worrying about ways and
means. Seems as though | had been
about it all my life; ever since father
was taken with heart disease hearing
the class in algebra. Now that the
rheumatism has got the better of me,
so that l can't work in cold weather,
and the doctor says it'll draw my fin
gers up so that l can't use them soon,
it doesn't seem as if there was any,
thing left for me in this world but the
homeland | ought to be thankful for
that"
MISS DtChN ldu lluu OlllCl CADCCld-
tons in her heyday, when young Larry
Rogers met her and carried her basket;
when his strong arm padded her down
the broad river to church on Sunday
mornings; when they sang together in
the choir from the same hymn-book;
when they loitered homeward in the
fragrant summer dusk and heard the
whip-poor-will complain and startled
the firefies in the hedges as they
brushedby. Itsometimes seemed to Miss
Becky as if all this happened in another
planet. Miss Becky's father had been
the district school teacher in those far
off days of her girlhood. He had taught
her the simple lore at his command,
but it was Larry Rogers who had taught
her music hour after hour in the empty
school-house. They had practiced
together, while he wrote the score on
the blackboard. But all this had not
sufficed to enable her to earn liveli-
hood. Her education, musical and
otherwise, had stopped short of any COM
mercial value. In those days she never
expected to earn her living by the sweat
of her brow. Larry was going to give
her everything. How trivial the little
quarrel seemed to-day which circum-
vented this fine resolve of his But
what magnitude it had assumed at the
time! On his return from trip to
neighboring city some busybody had
whispered to Larry that Miss Becky
had been seen driving with Squire
Eustis' son Sam behind his trotters. Sam
was Just home from college, harum-
scarum fellow, they said, who made love
right and left and gambled bit; and
when Larry reproached her with it she
had not denied; she had simply said:
What then? If you choose to listen
to gossip rather than wait till you
But you didn't tell me, and I've
been home week"
50 1 had forgotten all about it till you
reminded me-" said Becky.
It's such an everyday affair for
you to drive with Sam Eustis!" which
incredibly so stung Becky that she
would not condescend to explain that
she had carried some needlework up to
Squire Eustis' which she had been
doing for his wife, and that as she left
to walk home Sam was Just starting off
with his smart chaise and new dapple
grays, and the Squire had sad "Take
Miss Becky home, Sam, and show her
their paces;n and how she had been
ashamed to refuse their kindness, al
though preferring to walk a thousand
times: and how, once in the chaise,
Sam had been the very pink of courtesy,
and begged her to drive over with him
to Parson Amory's, three miles out
of her way, " that Lucy Amory may see
you don't disdain my company. For,
you see," said Sam, who was not as
black as he was painted, or as many
liked to suppose, Lucy can make me
what she will. Without her | shall be
nothing and nobody; but they've told
her all kinds of wild things about me;
they've told her she might as well jump
into the river as marry such a scape-
grace. And, perhaps, if | made her
little iealous-you know there's no
love; and, perhaps, if the old folks see
me driving about with Becky Thorne
my stock may 60 up, and | may be
saved from the burning as Parson
Amory SAYS" And Becky had con-
sented. How could she refuse to do
service for such true lover? So slight
thing, too! She had often traversed
the same road since on foot on her
daily rounds of toll or mercy. Sam
Eustis had married Lucy Amory years
ago, and was the foremost man in the
country to-day. Strange how that
friendly drive had interfered with Miss
Becky's prospects; how the simple fact
of carrying home Mrs. Eustis' needle
work should have determined her fate
and devoted her to a life of hardship
and the Old Ladies' Home at the end.
Talk of trihes! Poor Miss Becky! She
remembered that once or twice the
opportunity had offered when she might
have made it up with Larry; but pride,
or sort of fine reserve, had locked her
lips-Larry ought to know that she was
above silly flirtations. Once, when
they met at Lucy Amory's wedding,
when they all went out into the orch
ard while the bride planted young
tree and the guests looked for four
leaved clovers, she had found herself
whether by accident or design she could
not tell-on the grass beside Larry.
Their fingers met over the same lucky
clover, their eyes met above it, and for
an instant she had it on her tongue
end to confess all about the drive and
its result, to put pride in her pocket,
but just then Nell Amory called to
Larry:
- Oh a hOrrid sniderl-on NV arm,